The idea of ​​a Batman show without Batman is nothing new – we’ve had decades of a series of largely unsuccessful attempts to create a Gotham City largely free of the masked avenger’s nocturnal adventures. Birds of Prey, Gotham Knights, yes, Pennyworth: The Origin of Batman’s Butler have all made a damning impression on the general public. And if there is indeed a close parallel to any of those shows in HBO’s latest series, The Penguin, it’s FOX’s increasingly convoluted Gotham, which spends more time on the criminal dealings of the city’s underworld than anything else in 100 episodes. But Lauren LeFranc’s take on the gentleman of crime outstrips or waddles its competitors in eight short episodes, creating a gangland epic from its comic book origins that, if not surpassing them, at least matches the sensibilities of its inspirations.

A spin-off of Matt Reeves’ grimy, Seven-inspired take on The Batman, The Penguin picks up in the immediate aftermath of the 2022 film, after Paul Dano’s Riddler blew up the seawall protecting Gotham City and flooded much of its poorer neighborhoods. Cowardly middle-class gangster Oswald “Oz” Cobb (Colin Farrell, still unrecognizable under his dirty fat-suit prosthetics, gold teeth, and wobbly gait) sees his chance and, amidst all the chaos, sees a way to the top: He pits the crippled Falcone (Boss Carmine (Mark Strong in flashbacks, standing in for John Turturro) was killed in The Batman) and Maroni (Boss Salvatore (Clancy Brown) is in Blackgate Penitentiary) against each other.

But Oz’s greatest strengths – his eloquence, his resourcefulness, his chameleon-like ability to be everything to everyone – come with his weaknesses, which include a Joe Pesci-in-“GoodFellas” chip on his shoulder that spurs him to violence. In the opening minutes, that impulsiveness and insecurity get him into trouble, as a casual insult from Falcone heir Alberto (Michael Zegen) spurs Oz to put a few bullets into perhaps the most bulletproof person in Gotham. Farrell sneers beneath those prosthetics, and then a bleary look comes over his face. “Oh, damn it.” Title card.

This push-and-pull between Oz’s (or the Penguin’s, if you really want to piss him off) ambitions and insecurities fuels all eight episodes of the series, making this low-quality crime epic feel somehow complete and fulfilling despite the masked avenger’s absence. Batman is mentioned only briefly in a news report and then never mentioned again; you’d think he’d turn his attention to the escalating turf war in Gotham’s version of Queens (Crown Point), but maybe he has more important things to do. I say goodbye forever: It lets Farrell and Co. breathe a little and LeFranc can slowly build a rapidly escalating crime drama to a boiling point.

Instead, Cobb’s bat in the bell tower takes the form of Alberto’s lost sister Sofia Falcone (Cristin Milioti), recently returned from a stint in Arkham after being used as a supposed serial killer known as “The Executioner.” Whether the stories are true or not is irrelevant: Arkham has either changed Sofia or brought out what is already inside her, and her plans as a newly outed psychopath will likely complicate Oz’s rise to power. Milioti plays Sofia with a dangerous glint in her eye, but thankfully eschews any Harley Quinn-esque theatrics (aside from the occasional plunging neckline or flashy outfit). Instead, she’s a shark, deeply focused as Oz moves his fins from one impulse to the next. At times, she threatens to steal the show from Farrell; that’s how good she is.

But Farrell holds his own, especially as he develops his version of Cobb beyond the character’s stylistic origins in the style of Robert De Niro and James Gandolfini. Yes, there’s something of Scorsese or “The Sopranos” about the way Cobb literally throws his weight around, and Noo Joyzy’s accent gives him just enough comic edge to counteract the menace. Much like Tony Soprano, he also has a complicated relationship with his mother (Dierdre O’Connell), who recognizes his deadly potential, for better or worse, and pushes him to realize it. (“Are you a weak little wimp?” she coos at him in one of her signature motivational speeches.)

The mama’s boy element extends to Cobb’s entire ethos, which shapes his development in fascinating ways. Farrell plays him like a dangerous man who wants nothing more than to be loved and admired, and who will kill anyone who doesn’t. He even takes a young thief (Rhenzy Feliz’s stuttering Victor) under his wing at just the right moment of compassion, showing him the life denied to him by their shared childhood in the slums of Gotham. He likes to think of himself as a nice guy, and seems mortified when he’s forced to kill someone who offends him. It’s this unpredictability that Farrell does so well: desperate eyes behind the prosthetics, curled lips revealing those golden teeth. Murdering an enemy seems an inconvenience every time he does it, but he forces himself to keep going. He has no choice. That’s who he is.

That chaotic dynamic carries us well through The Penguin, even if the eight-episode format occasionally slows down in the middle. Flashbacks give us tragic glimpses of Sofia and Oz’s twin tragedies, stemming from neglectful parental figures and the sweltering heat of their circumstances; they’re welcome, but sometimes interrupt the momentum of the current story. The cinematography feels like Greig Fraser’s excellent work in The Batman – amber sunsets, pitch-black nights – but feels inherently cheaper by comparison. And Mick Giacchino’s score brings welcome hard notes to the show’s ’70s-inflected aesthetic, but lacks the iconic themes that father Michael brought to Reeves’ film.

Yet throughout, The Penguin offers a fascinating push and pull between the grotesque and the down-to-earth, a street crime thriller that is nonetheless full of cartoonish mafia stereotypes and over-the-top characters with sophisticated self-interests. These impulses revolve around the twin worlds of Oz and Sofia, two peas in a pod who nonetheless want to kill each other. Both grasp at the American dream in frustration, fighting against society and themselves (and ultimately each other) to get ahead. It’s a brave story set against the backdrop of Gotham City, and The Penguin proves you don’t need a cape and cowl to tell it.

The entire season was screened for review. Episodes will air weekly on HBO, premiering on Thursday night, September 19, before moving to Sundays starting September 22. They air the next day on Max.